


Lovely and Deep, Just Like I Always Said It Would Be.

by bees_in_a_trench_coat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Attempted Suicide, Depressed Dean Winchester, Destiel - Freeform, Drinking, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sad Dean Winchester, Self Harm, Self-Hatred, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 13:33:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18250874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bees_in_a_trench_coat/pseuds/bees_in_a_trench_coat
Summary: Dean is tired.He’s tired of his friends dying, hating himself, knowing this is all his fault. that’s why Cas found him in the forest that day.He swears that this will be the end.





	Lovely and Deep, Just Like I Always Said It Would Be.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I want to keep you all safe, so please read through these trigger warnings.  
> This fic includes:  
> -graphic descriptions of self harm  
> -attempted suicide  
> Please do not read if you feel it is unsafe for you!  
> If you like this fic, please let me know! I love feedback on my writing, and comments are what I live off of! Thanks!  
> -Ash

“Dean.”  
His voice sounds like waves crashing, or the crunching of gravel. There is a familiar break in the word, the one that means he’s trying to stay calm.  
I don't turn around. If I see his face I won't be able to continue.  
“Dean, please.”  
“Cas.”  
I hardly notice my voice breaking halfway through the word, or the tears on my face.  
“You don't have to do this. Just put it down.”  
I don't respond. I can't.  
Though I hate causing him pain, I can’t bring myself to stop.  
“Don't I, Cas? Because I'm pretty sure that it's a good idea.”  
“Dean, please. Just look at me. Look at me and we can talk through this. Please.”  
“Just leave, Cas.”  
I pumped venom into my voice, as much as possible. I need him to go. I don’t want for him to see this.  
“No. No, Dean. It's not gonna happen.”  
Subconsciously, I bring the blade to my wrist. I don't realize until I feel the press of freezing metal.  
“Dean-” He’s panicking, I hear it in his voice. A part of me, the part that would do anything for the man standing behind me, pushes me to stop, to run to him. Anything to keep that sound out of his voice.  
“Dean please- please put it down. Dean. DEAN.”  
I hear him raise his voice, but the words don’t register.  
I take another drink from the bottle loosely held in my left hand, before setting it down and shakily bringing the knife, kept razor sharp for hunts, back to the skin of my wrist. I press it down, not yet breaking skin, shivering at the feel of the cold metal.  
“No, no, no. Fuck, Dean. Please. Stop this, please.”  
He’s frantic, and I’m sure he’s crying.  
I close my eyes, pressing down harder and dragging it slightly, the blood starting to drip slowly down my arm and onto the snow beneath my feet.  
Again and again, quick and deep, until my vision starts going hazy and my knees feel like they’re going to give out.  
“Please. No.”  
Quiet sobs seem to punch the air out of my lungs.  
And then I do something incredibly stupid, something I had promised myself I wouldn't do.  
I look at him.  
And god, I regret it immediately. He looks awful. Clothes rumpled, barefoot, his face red and tear streaked. And those eyes, still so blue and deep, but now filled with tears.  
I can’t leave him like this.  
I fall to my knees, not even feeling the blade leaving my hand on the way down.  
I feel myself sobbing, see the blood still flowing in small rivulets down my arm, but none if it feels real.  
And then i feel his arms around me, tight, as if I was going to run.  
“Dean, Dean. Dean.”  
I hear him saying my name, chanting it.  
And then he’s picking me up, and I can’t move, and everything feels like it’s moving in fast motion, and I’m curling into his chest. I can feel it heaving with sobs, but he doesn’t stop moving, even though the forest floor is slick with snow and he isn’t wearing any shoes. For a second I wonder how he’s carrying me so easily, before remembering his newly regained grace.  
“Stay with me, ok? Stay with me.”  
I look up, seeing his eyes still filled with panic, and at that moment the pain hits me. It feels like someone lit my entire lower arm on fire. I let out a low wimper involuntarily, and his arms tighten around me.  
“Hold on. Just hold on, Dean.”  
I hear the door of the bunker open, and the heat wash over me. I hadn't realized I was cold.  
And then we’re in his room, and I’m on the bed. I make a weak grab for his shoulders, panicking.  
“Don't leave me. Please- please don't leave me, Cas.”  
“No. No, Dean, I'm not going to leave, Never going to leave.”  
The fear is still in his voice, and I would do anything to make it go away, but my head feels so, so fuzzy, and my limbs feel like lead. I can barely move, but i would throw my arms around him if I could, show him that I was real, convince him to stay.  
I feel his fingers on my arm, and hear his voice. I don’t register what he’s saying, until i felt a familiar warmth in my wrist. I pull back quickly.  
“No! Don't. Please.”  
The deep cuts in my arm are the only things keeping me from floating away, if he heals them, I worry, irrationally, that I will drift away from him and never find my way back.  
“Dean, i have to heal you.”  
“I don't want your help. I’ll be alright.”  
“This is not a choice you get to make.”  
I understand that he isn't going to take no for an answer, and despite my desperate squirming to get away, he keeps his grip and the pain subsides. I look down and see that he had even cleaned away the blood from my arm. The fuzziness in my head has cleared and I release my hold on his shirt.  
I didn't realize I was holding on to him.  
I look up, only to see him still studying my now clean wrist.  
Shit.  
I pull back fast, but the look in his eyes shows me exactly what I had feared.  
He traces the lines criss-crossing my wrist. Older scars, ranging from fairly new to faded and barely visible.  
“Fuck. Cas, that's nothing. Its fine. I'm good.”  
“No dean. You're not ‘good’. How could you do this to yourself?”  
I hear anger in his voice and flinch, my eyes drifting down.  
“Dean. Please look at me. I need to know why you did this, why you're doing this.”  
His voice is softer now, and scared. I can’t bring myself to look at him.  
“It's fine cas. It's really nothing.”  
“Do you think I can't tell what these are? You have been harming yourself.”  
“So what, we all use shitty coping mechanisms sometimes.”  
I play off the ice cold waves of panic running down my spine with an air of nonchalance, shrugging and looking to the window.  
He laughs hollowly, the sound rough and full of pain, and his eyes drag mine back.  
“Not like this. Give me your other arm.”  
Another rush of fear shot down my back. The other arm was even worse, with not yet healed scabs and deeper scars, angry red instead of the healed pink of the others.  
“No! I mean, its- theres nothing on that one. It's really ok.”  
“I do not believe you in the slightest. Please let me see it.”  
“I- ”  
My sentence is cut off by him taking my arm gingerly, like it’s made of eggshells that would be crushed if he put any more pressure on them. He pulls back my sleeve carefully, and I looked down at my lap. He gasps softly. I’m scared he’s going to leave, until feather-light touches trace my arm.  
“Dean. Dean”  
His voice breaks again, tears running down his face. I flinch as I feel them hit my arm, looking up at him again.  
He stares into my eyes for what feels like hours. He’s so close, I can feel his breath. “Cas-”  
And then his lips are on mine, and his hands around my waist, and I feel myself grab onto his coat.  
I’m kissing him back, pulling desperately on his jacket, as if I would lose him if I let go. It’s so much better than I imagined, kissing cas. His lips are slightly chapped, and I taste salt from our mixed tears.  
He breaks it off after a few minutes, and I feel cold without his lips on mine.  
“Please. Please stop doing this to yourself.”  
“Cas… i-”  
“Dean. You need to listen to me.”  
I look down and nod mutely.  
“Dean, this… this scares me. So- so fucking bad- i just… i can't lose you. Not like this.”  
God, his voice. He sounds so genuinely afraid, I can't help but to feel awful. This was never my intent. I was so sure, so absolutely, thoroughly convinced that no one would care, that he, sam, everyone I know would be better without me. And here was cas, crying like the world was ending.  
“Cas. God, I-.”  
The kiss is softer this time, and quietly says everything we can't right now.  
——————  
I wake up with Cas’s arms around my waist, and panic.  
This couldn't be happening.  
As the events of yesterday hit me one after another, it just got worse. I had experienced panic attacks before, but never like this. I can't breathe, and I recognize that I’m shaking violently and crying.  
I gasp for air, curling in on myself, and hear cas frantically calling my name. He pulls me up onto his lap, holding me tightly as I sob into his chest. I can't understand why he hasn't left yet. He had to go. I’m disgusting, I can only imagine how I look right now. I try to push him off, but he didn't budge. Stupid fucking angel mojo, making it impossible for me to escape.  
“Dean. Please tell me what you need me to do.”  
His voice is laced with concern, and I ache to tell him what I’m thinking, how much of a waste it is for him to fall for me, how he should go, I’m going to ruin this like I ruin everything else, but my throat seems like it’s tightening, and I can’t get out anything other than my sobs.  
I need to get out, to convince him that he was wrong. I shouldn't be saved. Everyone I love ends up dead, or worse. I can't let him get hurt because of me. I can try again, and finish the job. Keep the people I love safe.  
“Dean, none of that is true. None of it. You are so- fuck. So fucking important, I- I need you. I love you. I love you, and I’m not going to let you harm yourself ever again.”  
No. No, no no. He can't love me. I can't let him love me. I fight harder, but I’m at half strength, and he just pulls me closer to his chest. After what was probably about a minute, I can’t find enough strength to push any more, and I go limp. He immediately pulls me up, cradling me against him. Laying kisses against the top of my head as I clutch his shirt and cry silently.  
“Dean. You are so, so important. So beautiful, and amazing. Love you so much.”  
He continues whispering to me, his words painfully loving. Every once in a while I recognize enochian phrases. I feel safe in his arms, safer than I have ever felt before. After a while I must doze off, but he didn't seem to mind. I drift in and out with the sensation of his fingers in my hair, and his gorgeous eyes locked on my face like it was the most beautiful painting he had ever seen. He looks at me like i was the best possible combination of sunsets and galaxies and pie. Like I’m his whole world. I finally really woke up after what must have been hours, given that it was fully dark out.  
“Cas”  
My voice comes out low and cracked, and I notice how dry my throat feels. Before I can even think about it, there’s a glass of cool water in front of my face  
“Drink.”  
I have a brief thought that I may not be able to hold the cup. My arms feel weaker than they had ever felt before, but I shouldn't have worried. Cas brings the cup up to my lips, and all I have to do is drink. I quickly drain the glass.  
“Cas.” My voice is stronger now, but I don't want him to let me go.  
“How are you feeling?”  
I’m not sure how to answer that. I do a quick mental scan of my body. I don’t seem to be in any pain, but I still feel weak.  
“Okay.”  
“And mentally?”  
“I… I’m not sure.”  
“Alright, scale of one to ten, one being completely fine, ten being in direct danger?”  
“Uh… seven? Eight maybe?”  
“Alright. I am going to put you on the bed, and go get you some food. Is that alright?”  
I nodded, but felt the familiar panic rising again.  
“Please just… be fast?”  
“Of course, dean.”  
He shifts me from his lap onto the bed, and quietly walks to the door, looking back at me as he opens it.  
“Call out to me if anything gets worse. I will only be a minute.”  
He walks out, and I notice how alone I feel without his steady gaze on me.  
I curl into a ball and focus on my breathing, ignoring the tightness in my throat and chest.  
He’s back before anything gets too bad, carrying a plate with a bowl of applause (I have absolutely no idea where he got that from, considering I had never seen a single container of applesauce in the bunker), a slice of toast with peanut butter, and another glass of water.  
He noticed my current position, and seemed to tell exactly what was going through my head. He put the plate down and hurried to prop me up on some pillows.  
He tried hand me the spoon, but my hands were shaking too hard to take it, so he climbed onto the bed next to me, and brought it to my lips. I didn't realize how hungry I was until I swallow the first spoonful, but I realize that I haven’t eaten, not really, for about three days.  
I devour the applesauce, and then the toast, all with cas feeding me, giving me small sips of water after every couple bites. I don’t even feel embarrassed, being fed like a small child, until after had I ate all that Cas brought for me.  
“I’m… I’m sorry.”  
“What are you sorry about, dean?”  
“I- I’ve just taken up all of your time, and now you have to take care of me like im a sick baby, and I’m just so fucking sorry.”  
“Dean, you have nothing to be sorry about. I should have noticed sooner. It doesn't bother me, taking care of you. I want you to be alright. You are very important to me.”  
“Can you… can you maybe… hold me?” I feel bad asking still more of him, but I want to feel his arms around me again.  
“Of course, Dean.”  
He shifts around until he’s laying down next to me, and pulls me against him. I bury my head against his chest on instinct, holding onto his shirt. He smells good, like forests, rain, vanilla and freshly baked bread. I inhale deeply, and relax into his touch.  
“I love you too, Cas.”  
It slips out without me thinking, and I regret it when I feel him tense up. I look up to his eyes, expecting disgust, or regret. I was surprised by his eyes meeting mine with something more like awe.  
“Dean, may I kiss you?”  
“I- what?”  
“May I kiss you?”  
I kiss him before the nervous look on his face progresses into words.  
This was not my original intention, and eventually we will have to figure out what to do, what we are, how to fix my brokenness. But right now, I get to kiss Castiel, an angel of the lord, and I don't think I would change the outcome for the world.


End file.
